


Prophet Margin I

by Daegaer



Series: Prophet Margin [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Collection: Purimgifts Extras, Demons, Fire From Heaven, Gen, Nevi'im | Prophets (Tanakh), Prophets, Treat, elijah - Freeform, iron age Israel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23039887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley deal with an Israelite prophet.
Series: Prophet Margin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674703
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21
Collections: Purimgifts 2020





	Prophet Margin I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opalmatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/gifts).



"Faccce it," Crowley said triumphantly. "I win this round, and you're buying the drinks for the next decade!"

Aziraphale watched the gold-bedecked priests of Baal dancing around the altar as the people of Israel looked on in awe. They certainly were fashionable and enthusiastic, he had to give them that. And his fellow was, well, unkempt and grumpy at the best of times.

"Pour lots more water on the Lord's sacrifice," Elijah said. "I don't want to make things too easy for Him."

Crowley sniggered. Aziraphale felt a headache coming on.

"Has anywhere got Michelin-starred restaurants yet? Because I think you're buying me dinner for the next decade too. I'll want champagne; lots of champagne."

"There isn't even a France yet, dear," Aziraphale said absently, as the Israelites oohed and ahhed over the priests of Baals' exertions, and Elijah looked a little bored as he scratched under his tunic at his flea-bites.

"No answer yet from Mount Zaphon?" Elijah said in sarcastic concern. "D'you think Himself's having a little nap? Oh, you're going to start cutting yourselves. Go ahead, I'll wait."

"Now this is what I call that Old Time Religion," Crowley said, watching the Israelites standing around wide-eyed. "Sorry, Aziraphale, this lot's mine."

"My turn," Elijah said, and looked straight at Aziraphale sternly, his gaze flicking meaningfully to Crowley, then Upward. "Lord-"

Aziraphale sighed and called in the co-ordinates. Fire streamed down in a white-hot molten cascade, obliterating Elijah's sacrifice and the sodden firewood it rested on. The backwash of heat crisped hair and eyelashes all around.

"I - " Crowley said, and resorted to simply opening and shutting his mouth. His hair frizzed and curled around his face in a quite unflattering manner. "What -" he tried after a while.

"I believe," Aziraphale said crisply, "that you'll be buying the drinks."

[source](https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datei:Dura_Europos_fresco_worshipping_gold_calf.jpg)

Duro-Europos Synagogue fresco of the contest on Mt Carmel between Elijah and the prophets of Baal.


End file.
